A Cup of Tea with the Dying
by Ellisama
Summary: Death shows up on Sasuke's doorstep, and it will steal his innocence, but it will not steal his substance. A mourn-fic with a philosophical edge.
1. Chapter 1

_**Death is rarely an invited guest…**_

It was a rainy afternoon. Typical for a day early in spring in Konoha. The bell rung and after a brief moment of pretending to be absent, I decided Naruto would probably come in anyway, so I better open the door before he breaks one of my windows.

When I opened the door and let my guest in, I can honestly say I never expected meeting as such. Although I knew one day he would step inside these compounds again since that bloody night, I somehow never believed the day would come. But here at my doorstep Death undeniably stands, and I can do nothing else but welcome him inside.

He follows me into the living room and I offer him some tea, which he politely accepts, and takes a seat. Tea pot is on, the cups are waiting and never I would've imagined that one day I we would be sharing tea in the late afternoon. The most unlikely of visitors, death is. We remain silent while we wait, for something I cannot recall him telling me. The tea is ready and I pour us some tea in our cups. I expected Naruto to visit me, to bicker a little and talk about the future to avoid the past. A quiet understanding we shared, like the bond I once believed I could break singlehandedly. I am happy he didn't turn up today, though I am sad he will probably be the one to find me.

I wonder if this would break the thin red line that pulled me out of the darkness.

I take another look at my guest, sitting in the chair next to me. He asks me if he isn't a bother to me, if I wasn't busy. I answer nothing but truth: "I will never be too busy to die."

I wonder why my mind is so clear, how come I do not feel regret for the things I messed up, and the undeniable fact that I will never be able to make them right again. Death doesn't seem to matter, though. In his low voice, he asks me if I have a phone call to make before we leave.

"No, not really." I reply, and pour myself some extra tea. The steam of the hot water feels warm on my face, slightly wet even. Tears are sometimes an inappropriate to Death's behavior. He might have been an unexpected and even unwanted guest at first, I somehow cannot find the will to cry or protest. While Death's work has tormented my life, I cannot find the strength to protest now I meet him in person.

I remember Itachi's smile. Sometimes the correct response to Death's perfect punctuation mark is a smile. I wonder, did he smile to me that day, or did he smile to Death? I find it doesn't matter anymore.

Death is a strange man, but polite and a pleasant company. Death smiles at me while eating a cookie Sakura had given me as a present for the 2th reunion my return. I smile back, not faking for once.

I think about the cookie again. I've never once faked a smile for her. Maybe I should've smiled for her more. Make her feel at home in our team. Maybe I should've never smiled at her at all, not giving her hope if I would only crush them later.

Maybe she'll drop by my house like she has done so many times in the past, and I will be able to ask her what she would've rather have now my mind is finally so clear. I hope she comes by so I can tell her I am sorry, and say goodbye.

Though it would be better if she doesn't: I'd rather not have her meet death today.

Death finishes his cup, and instantly I feel no will left to take another sip. He looks at me, and asks me if it's time. I sign, look at the clock and answer: "I'm going away tonight…."

Death nodded. I look around for one last time, but my vision allowed me nothing but peace. I was destined to meet death alone, but I promised myself that when Death would pay a visit to Naruto or Sakura, I would accompany him. With those last words and that last vow in mind I take three deep terminal breaths and closed my eyes.

A cold hand touches mine, the clock stops ticking and I follow Death out of my house, into the sun, letting the light engulf me.

I am no more.

… _**but following him is inevitable.**_

* * *

_With one of my loved ones dying, this and many more drabbles came to life when it fades from her. Now my mind is frighteningly clear, I felt like putting this up in a way of saying that you shouldn't expect any update for my regular stories in the upcoming days. Her condition is worsening and I feel like death is as much our doorstep as he stood in front of Sasuke. Why I picked Sasuke to die, I don't know. I do not hate him, wish him death nor was this meant to bash him. Like most of my stories who are written in first person, he somehow seems to fit._

_The concept is about a personification of death symbolically visiting Sasuke, and how he finds peace with death. Sasuke's last words were actually James Brown's last words. I used a lot of symbolism and philosophical implications through the entire story and if you feel up to it I will explain or highlight them. You can also give me your vision. Also, why the fic is so emotionless, is because I somehow don't seem to feel anything at the moment. That explains why Sasuke is so excepting towards Death._

_Death is written with a capital because he is a person, in case you wondered and hadn't figured that out yet. If anybody wants to beta this BTW, feel free to do so, and send me the result._

_For now, I wait._


	2. reversed

Hi, me again in a shitty situation. My grandma died, so I went emo again and produced a second chapter.

* * *

**REVERSED**

I'm shivering, shivering hard. It's undeniably cold in here, but that's not why I'm visibly shaking. I don't lose my head like others, nor is my mind blurry. I am ice cold sober, my mind is sharp and my thoughts clear. And I haven't even lost you yet.

I stopped crying a while ago, and I've never sobbed. Nor have I said it out loud, not in denial nor acceptance of the 'situation'. I am frighteningly levelheaded. I analyze my every move, every word I intend to say is thought over a million times. I don't feel the sadness filling me up on the inside, eating me alive like it did before. I feel a suffocating void claiming my insides, one by one numbing all but the air inside me.

I reach for the mirror I keep in my pocket, but the attempt fails as I realize there is nothing I want to see, and sadly nothing I haven't seen before. I stare at it, almost hoping it would show me something against better judgment.

Some people spend their dying moments with the person they love most. I keep questioning myself if you would spend yours with me. I haven't been fair to you. I have lied to you, abandoned you and put you in second place more times than I am willing to remember. I hardly ever apologized, and though I always came back, it was always after I was finished with whatever I deemed more important than you.

You, my so called most precious person, who's hips can barely hold the weight of your body, who's heartbeats are becoming rarer, who is dy-

Muttering sorry doesn't seem right. Talking doesn't seem right, actually. I knew this day would come, but when it arrived, I understand that you were the one person I was not willing to scarify.

I always craved for adventure, even for blood at some point. For something that would rip me out of my normality and make me special, different from the crowd I use to drown in. So that people would talk about me, remember me, know my name. I figured out long ago that it never had to be for good reasons. As long as I would stand out, I was willing to create my own adventure.

You suffered because of that, and though I can see you aren't the only one who did, I now can see that you are the only one I didn't want to suffer, whom I never intended to hurt.

Whom I abandoned in the process. I might have yet to lose you, but you are already haunting me.

* * *

_These are not messages of great poetry, meant to inspire or to activate. These massages is pain, written down on a paper. In another time of sorrow, I could not help but resort to the virtual pen to desperately fill up that void. In the western world, black symbolizes death. In the east it's white, and I think they are closest to the truth. What else but the emptiness of white could describe grief?_

_I used Sasuke again, this time the other way around, with Naruto dying. Symbolism, is present again, but that's just because of who I am. Last time I felt like dying, this time, nearly a year later I watch hopelessly while she withers away._

_I don't know what hurts more._


End file.
